


Parfit Gentil

by toffeecape



Series: Sandwich 'verse [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, Bisexual Character, Caretaking, Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Gen, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, POV Natasha Romanov, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Polyamorous Character, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Pepper Potts, Service Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3110501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toffeecape/pseuds/toffeecape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha likes her job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parfit Gentil

The office was empty when Natasha walked in, so she headed for the kitchen and started the kettle. She peeled a grapefruit and removed every last shred of white pith; she layered scoops of granola and blueberries with yogurt to make a parfait. She set both on a plate with a spoon.

Pepper wandered in, blinking, huddled in her fuzzy dressing gown. She saw the breakfast Natasha had laid out for her and gave her a rueful smile.

"Late night?" Natasha asked.

"How can you tell?" Pepper said drily. She pulled up a stool and worked her way through the grapefruit.

The kettle was whistling; Natasha got down two mugs. "Vanilla rooibos today?"

"That sounds perfect," said Pepper, so Natasha put some in the tea balls and covered them with boiling water.

Pepper curled her hands around her mug, absorbing the heat and smelling the sweet vapour. She really had the most slender, delicate hands. Eventually she set the tea aside to steep and started in on the parfait.

"This is so good," she said after the first spoonful. "Thank you, Natasha."

"My pleasure." Natasha added honey and a splash of almond milk to her own tea, leaving the containers within Pepper's reach. She sipped while Pepper munched. When there was no more tea in Natasha's mug, she asked, "Have you decided what you want to wear this morning?"

"Well, this is the press release." Pepper slid her tablet over for Natasha's perusal. Natasha skimmed it, and repressed a shiver of glee.

"The white, with the formed shoulders and the diagonal lapels," she said firmly.

Pepper looked pleased. "That's just what I was thinking. Get it ready for me while I shower?"

"Of course."

Natasha really liked the white skirt suit. The lines of the front were martial to her eyes, evocative of weapons strapped across the body; the gentle upswoop of the formed shoulders suggested wings. She hung it on the dressing room door, then picked out some silver stilettos and diamond stud earrings.

She was just setting out makeup when Pepper settled into the chair, already in her underwear, camisole, and stockings, and with her hair blow-dried. Natasha combed it out, and twisted and pinned it into a sleek chignon. She added a quick shot of hairspray to the style, then moved around to Pepper's face.

Pepper closed her eyes, perfectly calm, while Natasha dusted her with a translucent powder that would keep her matte in the light of flashbulbs without hiding her freckles. The lightest touch of blush to her cheeks, some shaping with an eyebrow pencil, and then Natasha held her breath and Pepper's eyes as she applied mascara.

"No lipstick?" asked Pepper.

"Yes lipstick," said Natasha, "but I wanted to do this first." She pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Pepper's mouth before painting it a deep, rich red.

 

* * *

 

There was a very particular swagger one acquired when walking in stilettos. Natasha could appreciate the effect, for all that the shoes were hell on the legs and back. She and Pepper clicked their way out to the space where the press were gathered in front of the podium, hips swaying almost in tandem.

Natasha stood behind and to one side of Pepper, deliberately straddling the line between assistant and bodyguard in her all-black pantsuit. Her heels were strapless; she could step out of them at a moment's notice. She schooled her features into a smooth mask and listened to Pepper spin another masterpiece.

She began formally enough. "As you know, in the wake of SHIELD's collapse, Stark Industries has become the sponsor of the Avengers Initiative. As CEO, it is my pleasure to confirm reports of the marriage of two of the team's members: Captain Steve Rogers, and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes." The crowd didn't stir; this news was several days old.

Pepper's voice turned sad. "Long thought killed in action in 1945, it is now known that Sergeant Barnes survived, taken as a prisoner of war by HYDRA. He was subjected involuntarily to multiple experimental procedures, including an attempt at replicating the supersoldier serum, and trials of a cryogenic freezing process, the combination of which enabled Sergeant Barnes to survive to the present day in much the same manner that Captain Rogers did." She skipped so neatly over so much horror, protecting James even as she hand-fed his story to the cameras and microphones and faces. They ate it up, starved for solid information.

Pepper's tone became more brisk as she went on. "During the chaos caused by the failure of Project Insight and the exposure of HYDRA, Sergeant Barnes was able to escape, and has been recovering here in New York. He began participating in Avengers missions approximately six months ago, and most recently contributed to last week's defense of New York against a minor incursion of unknown aliens." Implying, without telling a single lie, that James had been here the entire time, not out slaughtering everyone who used him and destroying virtually all data on himself (what little there was to begin with).

She ended cheerfully. "It has been my pleasure to get to know Sergeant Barnes, just as I have Captain Rogers, and I count both men as my personal friends. I am confident that you will extend to Sergeant Barnes the same consideration for his privacy that was granted to Captain Rogers when he surfaced in 2012." For all Pepper's sunny words, the threat was clear: anyone who crossed her friends would find themselves dealing with her. More than a few of the reporters in the crowd paled and swallowed, remembering some hell she'd put them through in the past.

Pepper beamed, exuding freckled, all-American wholesomeness. "Thank you for your time." Natasha allowed herself a shark's grin, for the benefit of anyone looking past Pepper to her. There was another storm of camera flashes, and then they were turning around and striding back inside.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Pepper was inside her office, she had JARVIS cloud the glass. She rubbed her forehead with a hand that trembled almost imperceptibly as she took deep breaths through her nose.

"How are you doing?" Natasha asked. It wasn't like Pepper to show anxiety after a straightforward piece of performance art like that.

Pepper's eyes snapped open; they were churning with orange light. Oh. Not anxiety at all, then. "Having a little trouble with certain impulses," she admitted.

Natasha steered Pepper into her high-backed chair. "I can help with that," she said, and folded to her knees.

"Oh," said Pepper, as Natasha carefully rolled back the white skirt and leaned in. "I was going to suggest a glass of iced chamomile, but this is - better," she ended faintly.

Natasha rubbed her nose against Pepper's panties, enjoying the satiny feel and how flatteringly quickly they grew damp. Then she slid them to one side and licked delicately at Pepper's folds, starting at the outer labia and working her way inwards as Pepper tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed. She tasted clean and salty, her smell fresh and somehow _innocent_ , full of life.

By the time Natasha started to suckle at Pepper's hard little clit, Pepper had her legs hiked up over the armrests of her chair, and her fever-hot hands stroking lightly at Natasha's hair and ears. "That feels so good," she moaned, "you're doing _so_ well."

Natasha hummed and licked at the nub of flesh. She kept her tongue soft, but it still made Pepper yelp as her thighs twitched.

"Oh!" She panted. "Natasha, please, your fingers." She shifted in the chair - one of her favorites, Natasha recalled. She'd probably rather not get it wet. Natasha slid two fingers into Pepper's slippery, hot pussy; Pepper clenched them with a grateful sigh. She was only a squirter if she had nothing inside her.

And now Natasha could please her twice as much. She massaged Pepper's front wall with deep strokes, pressing on the roots of her clitoris while she licked and sucked at the head - ever so gently, now, as Pepper was growing very sensitive. The swaying of her torso suggested Pepper was tossing her head back and forth, and her voice was reduced to high, wordless cries.

Finally Natasha heard Pepper's breathing start to heave rapidly, and a moment later she clamped down on Natasha's fingers, shaking and gasping as she rode out her orgasm. Natasha gentled her touch as she came down, licking Pepper clean with very soft strokes of her tongue after withdrawing her fingers. Finally she sat back on her heels and sucked her fingers as she looked at Pepper.

The dangerous orange glow was long gone from her eyes; in its place was a healthy pink glow on her face. There were a few tendrils of hair escaping the chignon, but they could be tucked back in or finger-curled to look deliberate easily enough. Her smile was dazzling.

"That was just what I needed," Pepper said. "Thank you."

The approval in her voice warmed Natasha clear through. "Thank _you_."

Pepper gestured vaguely at Natasha's body. "Would you like...?"

Natasha smiled and shook her head. "No, thanks." She was surprised to note the rest of the thought she didn't say aloud: _not today_. Meaning maybe another day? That was new.

She did accept Pepper's helping hand as she boosted herself to her feet. Pepper gave her the same sort of survey Natasha'd given her a moment ago. "You didn't even smear your makeup."

Natasha shrugged. "Barely wearing any."

Pepper's eyebrows shot up. "You knew this would happen?"

"I guessed." There was a room in the Tower, its existence a closely-guarded secret from both Steve and James. Not all the Captain America memorabilia in it was Tony's. It wasn't just little American _boys_ who idolized Cap and his friends, aspiring to be a protector and saviour.

Pepper chuckled. "Good guess."

Natasha rolled her shoulders into a more businesslike posture. "Will that be all, Miss Potts?"

Pepper smiled dryly as she rearranged her suit and smoothed her hair. "I would still like a glass of iced tea, actually. And then, yes, that will be all for now, Miss Romanoff."

 

* * *

 

With James and Steve on the other side of the world, being a gross old married couple in dignified privacy for once, Natasha's choices of sparring partners were reduced to people she had to hold back with, and people who had to hold back with her.

On the whole, she preferred to spend her afternoon doing katas and then a few circuits with the free weights. Her legs were rubbery and her arms burning by the time she wobbled up to her apartment. She stripped and stepped into her shower, sighing gratefully when the heavy jets of hot water pounded into her muscles.

Even exhausted, she knew it was inevitable that she would end up thinking about her morning. She leaned against the wall of the shower, hand creeping between her legs, letting her touch and the spray of the water mingle as images and thoughts flickered through her mind:

\- Pepper's beautiful hands wrapped around the mug -

\- her narrow, freckled shoulders hugged by the straps of her bra and camisole -

\- still and calm as Natasha touched her head and neck with her hands, hands with specific calluses _just_ from killing people -

\- the petal-softness of Pepper's lips against Natasha's own -

\- Pepper, fire in her blood, standing between the world and the Avengers, spreading wings of wealth and power and influence over her friends, her family -

\- and she let _Natasha_ lay her sword at her feet -

\- she let _Natasha_ see her vulnerable -

\- she let Natasha _touch_ her, even the most intimate of touches -

\- she trusted Natasha to _take care_ of her -

\- she could even take care of _Natasha_ -

Natasha came at that thought, so suddenly she surprised herself. She shivered as she pressed the flats of her fingers against her clit, gasping in the warm, humid air of the shower.

She'd spent so long in there that she'd overheated a little; when she got out, she had to bend over for a moment while she rode out a head-rush. After she recovered, she dried off and slipped into a tank top and pajama pants.

Clint was sitting on her couch when she padded into her living room, forking up noodles from a takeout container with one hand and holding Natasha's bag of frozen peas to a black eye with the other.

"I saw Pepper's speech," he said. "Nice chignon."

"I had a good teacher," said Natasha. There was another container beside Clint's on the coffee table; he knew the price of admission for letting himself into her place. He even remembered to add peanuts to her order of beef pad sew, Natasha noted with satisfaction.

"So I learned something today," Clint told her.

"Oh?" Natasha separated the cheap bamboo chopsticks.

"Yes. There are some very unfortunate homonyms between American and Yugoslav Sign Language." He winced as he shifted the frozen peas slightly.

"Your life is the hottest mess of anyone I know," Natasha said fondly. "Kate has Lucky?"

"Until he gets tired of a pizza-less diet and makes a break for it, yeah."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Finally Natasha took a sip of water and said, "I think I want Pepper to have sex with me."

Clint blinked, and said with his mouth full, "I thought you were already having sex with her?"

"Right; _I_ am having sex with _her_. But now I think I want _her_ to have sex with _me_."

Clint's eyes widened. " _Oh_."

"Yeah."

Clint swallowed. "Are you going to do anything about feeling that way?" he asked carefully.

"I don't know. Maybe." She wiggled her toes under his butt; they were nice and warm now, and her belly was filling up with hot food. The thought seemed less enormous to contemplate like this.

Clint said, "You've got River Monsters DVR'ed. Want to watch it?"

"Yes." Natasha settled in to finish her noodles and watch a show about vicious, oversized freshwater fish with her best friend. She didn't have any decisions that couldn't wait.

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. OH LOOK it's yet more of my gigantic throbbing boner for caretaking and trust dynamics as applied to brainwashed Russian assassins!
> 
> 2\. Ye gods, how can it be *harder* to write about body parts I actually have myself? This is my first femslash; be gentle. 
> 
> 3\. For anyone who really cares about the *timeline* of Cinnamon Honey, let's say the Serbian situation took some time to develop before Natasha drafted the Avengers for Clint-sitting duty. 
> 
> 4\. Yes, the title is from Chaucer.


End file.
